


Don't Run

by trueunicornqueen



Category: Lucifer - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, F/M, Gen, Human AU, Original Character(s), serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueunicornqueen/pseuds/trueunicornqueen
Summary: Chloe Decker is a college student bored with her continued uneventful existence. That all changes when a student in her college is murdered and she receives a message from the killer.Lucifer Morningstar isn't a stranger to death, with two dead parents you won't be either. When a student in his college is murdered he can't resit checking it out at least once.Their paths cross standing on dried blood of the victim. The reaction is instant - hate. Chloe doesn't want anyone to mess with something that is her's and Lucifer isn't sure why he listens to the girl that everyone believes to be the killer.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Kudos: 12





	1. Socially acceptable YES!

**Author's Note:**

> Just for reference, this story is based in an Indian City - Vadodara. There are original characters here. 
> 
> This was an idea that's been kicking around in my head for a while. Hope you enjoy it. <3

To say that Chloe was bored was most certainly an understatement. The story always remained the same. Go to college, try to understand what the hell was going on and then get tired and frustrated with the lack of proper explanations and even less understanding, and then end up reading fan fiction under the desk, forget about the teacher. The day ends and then go back home to try to study, maybe and instantly lose interest in it as she took the first step in the house. End up watching TV shows as her parents yell at her in the background to not do that. Go to bed. Repeat. Chloe walked up the ramp between the college pavilion and the sports field. Music, a constant companion as Taylor Swift blasts through her earphones. She is dancing in her head trying not to show it on the outside. She clenched her jaw in annoyance as a human looks at her when she let a move slip out. ‘Why do they have to be like that?’ she thought.

  
_Cause they are normal, sweety._

  
And that would be Pas. Chloe wasn’t sure if Pas was a hallucination or just her conscious. He contradicted her enough to be either.

  
She continued her path to her class as her phone played a Kansas song.

  
She looked around for Maze already wondering if she is already in the class.

  
‘Something is wrong.’

  
She looked around as she finally noticed that the usual loud and brash noises were replaced with silence and hushed whispers. There was something in the air. Something that reminded her of dark alleys and closed spaces. She could feel the energy emanating from everyone around her. A dead set gloom was eating up the whole place.

  
And the worst.

  
She had no idea.

  
“Hey!”

  
Chloe almost jumped at the simple word.

  
“Maze! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  
“Oh. Sorry”

  
Now something was definitely wrong. Maze never apologized. That was her defining trait.

  
“Something wrong?” she asked.

  
“What?! Like you don’t know?”

  
“Know what?” she looked at her in confusion.

  
“You really don’t know?” she studied her empty face for a second an continued, “Felicia is dead.”

  
“WHAT?!” Chloe must have said it a little too loudly, everyone was looking at her.

  
“How?!”

  
“She was murdered.”

  
‘Yes.’

  
The jubilant cheer only happened inside her head. On the outside, she had no words that would express anything in a socially acceptable way.

  
“You really don’t know?”

  
“Nope.” Chloe tried saying it in a more morose and somber way, she was supposed to be feeling some level of – bad. Or something. She could never really tell.

  
“Any details on the case? Who did it?”

  
“Nothing that I’ve heard of.”

  
A bell rang and the prayer started.

  
Chloe didn’t register as the day began and before long it was lunch break. The only thing going about her brain was Felicia. Dead. On the ground.

  
Maze called her obsessed. And she was. How often does something like this happen?

  
During one of the classes she had managed to read an article about the murder, there were no photos, she was shot six times, ‘Overkill’. She did find it suspicions that the murder should take place not much further than where she used to go to school. The lead detective on the case was Inspector Charlotte Richards. Chloe googled her and came across a Facebook account.

  
“Damn the woman is hot,” She murmured. “And decorated.” From her pictures Chloe found out that she was in the army before she joined the police force, she got offered a desk job but she didn’t want it. She became an on ground inspector, with a hefty cut to her paycheck. “Oh” Turns out she didn’t have to worry about that. Her family had old money.

  
Felicia didn’t even live anywhere near where she was killed. What was she doing there?

  
‘Why was she killed?’

  
She had known the fragility of human life, and it was fragile. Dying was just as easy as walking and if she was being honest both could be done at the same time. Though she knew it, she hadn’t expected to experience it firsthand. No wonder she couldn’t keep her mind off of it.

  
But there was something else lurking inside there. Something that was just not ready to accept this as it was.

  
She wasn’t the best-est of friends with Felicia, but she couldn’t imagine any scenario where that girl might have angered someone so much they’d want to murder her. Chloe on the other hand could surely annoy someone enough to want to kill, but Felicia, never. She was a small hindrance.

  
Even if they hadn’t been friends for very long, Chloe had managed to profile her quite well. She was simple. But hungry for power. And even though she thirsted for power she was not strong or willing enough to go and get it. She lived within societies rules. She followed her parents and she by herself would not be causing a ruckus. She loved dancing. God, did she love dancing? One of the only qualities that made her insufferable good girl act bearable. She was loyal but only to those she considered a friend, otherwise she was a snake.

  
That was pretty much how she had been at odds with Chloe. Their personalities were vastly different and the people they liked to hang out with were different. It was amazing they had been friends at all.

  
But her just dying was something she had not thought would happen.

  
_But who killed her and why?_

  
“Pas” she spoke softly. The voice inside her head finally decided to make an appearance. It had been absent all day until now.

  
‘That isn’t my job.’ she deflected.

  
 _What is your job?_ He shot back.

  
‘Shut up’

  
_We both know you want to._

  
‘What I want is to be able to focus on computer networks’

  
_Don’t you mean operating systems?_

  
Chloe looked at the teacher and what he was doing on the board.

  
‘Dammit’


	2. Not a poet/ A poem and Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe receives an envelope from the killer.

Chloe’s mind continued to paint pictures of how Felicia’s body would look laying down on the ground, or perhaps posed in some way, or maybe discarded like trash.

She tossed her bag on her bed and nearly missed it. The bag fell to the floor as Chloe watched idly, consumed by macabre images. She sat on her desk, put the envelope on her laptop aside and opened Google.

Felicia Dominick. She typed.

She skimmed through the articles, each stating that she was shot and then going on a tangent about her life and the tragedy of her death. She fell back into her chair.

“The reporters must have nothing else to do today.” She spoke to no one, “Wait a sec.”

Her eyes landed on the brown envelope.

 _Observant_ remarked Pas.

There was no name, no address or even a stamp, just a plain brown envelope. Translation this was home delivered.

Given the current events the careful thing to do would be to ask her parents if anyone had delivered it.

“Later,” no need to involve someone right away, right?

She lifted the flap, something about this made her want to cherish every second. She felt like a character in a horror movie right before they open something to find something horrifying inside. Her heart beat picked up in pace, hands started to feel a bit clammy but her mind was focused. For a second she thought maybe she was making things up, like the billion times she had in the past, that this was just going to end up being some advertisement for classes or exams. She really hoped that wasn’t the case.

Her fingers pinched the white paper, empty except for a few lines in the center of the page in a typewriter font, courier new, and 12 pixel in size.

Clever girl, are you clever enough?

Shall we play a game?

As always it starts the same

You have all you need

Find the desire for the deed

Once you find my noble intentions

Come speak to me through a global connection.

_Not a poet_ sneered Pas.

Chloe chuckled, “The killer wants me to find out why he killed her?” she snorted, still not believing what was happening, “Brilliant.”

She went over the poem once again, “Nobel intentions, so he thinks that what he did was for the good, of? . . . Society, himself?” she asked no one, “To be fair, that doesn’t matter. Speak? – global connections? What? Am I supposed to make an Instagram post or something?”

She jumped in her seat as a notification flared up on her laptop.

Prince 1989 commented on your post – Misogynistic Women and how women contribute to the patriarchy. 

It was like divine prophecy. “Shit . . . Shit . . . OH MY GOD! That’s the global connection!”

She put the first page down, her heart skipped a beat as she realized what she was looking at – crime scene photos. She quickly flipped through the rest, yep, definitely crime scene photos. She went back to the first, it was dark, the flash from the camera casting a sharp shadow.

“Shadows? Flash?” she went to one of the articles to check again, “the police found the body in the early hours of the morning and while there may still be some darkness it would have not been like this.”

“They were taken at night,” a moment passed as she realized, “The killer took them!”

She laid the photos in a line on her desk, “It seems he took them right after the kill, the blood has barely spread from the six bullet holes.”

People say that death is tragic. But Felicia didn’t look tragic. She didn’t look like anything.

Whatever it was that made her tick, made her something, someone, was gone, leaving nothing but an unanimated figure of hydrocarbons to lay on the ground.

Chloe wondered if she could catch the profile of the killer in a reflection, like they do on TV. Unfortunately, there were no reflective surfaces on the body. Her eyes were closed and for a moment Chloe wondered if she died like that or if the killer was the one who closed them.

She moved to the next photo. A closer one. Just of her torso and the six bullets that had left six empty holes there. There was another of each of her hands, palms covered in blood from the instinctive reaction of reaching for the injuries. There was a redness around her wrists, meaning she was tied up.

Another photo of her face, tear tracks visible, disappearing halfway through her cheeks, “her mouth was gagged.”

_Tape or cloth?_

The next photo answered that question. The subtle redness around both sides of her lips, “By cloth.”

The last was the photo of her legs. Chloe wondered if she would see red rope marks if she lifted her jeans.

Blackness enveloped in front of her as she closed her eyes, churning, taking the form of Felicia. She saw a gloved hand raise, gun pointed at the girl whimpering in the front.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Six shots to the abdomen. Felicia clutching her stomach in pain and terror, perhaps with the knowledge that she would soon be dead. Perhaps hoping for a miracle. What would have been her last thought? What would have she felt?

_Terror, obviously._

Chloe rolled her eyes at Pas. Yes, she would have felt terror, she was being murdered. But perhaps, maybe she felt a certain release, peace.

Chloe didn’t stay on the thought much longer, least we repeat 12th standard.

“The killer watched the light go out behind her eyes. Watched the blood pool on her body. And click. He took a photo.”

And now the very same person wanted her to play a game.

Who-dun-it?

Her first instinct, obviously, was to play. Who wouldn’t?

But as soon as she’d thought the thought she realized that if she did that, she’d only be giving the killer power over herself. He already had power over someone else, killing her to prove it, then sticking around enough to take picture and send them to her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the morality of the situation, but letting anyone else have control over her wasn’t something she wanted. It was simply unacceptable.

“Chloe. Nina. Dinner.” Her mother yelled from downstairs.

Chloe spent the dinner answering her parents’ questions about Felicia.

Was she murdered? Yes

Was she your friend? No

Didn’t she used to be? Yes

“Did you never talk again?” her mother asked.

“Did anyone deliver something today?” she asked no longer wanting to answer their questions.

“No. no one,” her mother answered, “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders, a move she had perfected over the years, “Just asking.”

So the killer was in her house when no one else was. That leaves a very small window for nefarious deeds.

Questions churned in her head as she chewed her food.

How? Was the first one. How could her break in?

Chloe had tried to break in herself, well, she had imagined it. And there were only two possible options.

First, climb to the back balcony and break the window glass next to the door, reach around and unlatch the door from the inside.

But since the glass remained unharmed the only other way was walk in right through the front door with a key.

Since nobody had complained about losing their key anytime soon, the killer must have made a copy.

So the next question was – Whose? Whose key had been copied?

Hers? Her mother’s? Father’s?

And that opened up a whole new set of potential suspects. If it was her key that was copied, it would have had to happen during college. Given that she leaves her bag solo on multiple occasions throughout the day, narrowing this down was a challenge just by itself. But if it was one of her parent’s coworkers behind this, that was a whole different huballu.

She cursed under her breath.

“Huh…” her mother looked up.

“What?” she acted all innocent.

She was going to play this game.

And she was going to win.


	3. Meet Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe, unable to figure out the motive of the killer, visits the crime scene and finds someone spying on her.

So far everything she has done has been to naught. There was no new information that she had found from talking to Felicia’s BFF - Mahi and she couldn't see why anyone might want her dead. She was harmless.

And that was the reason that Chloe found herself sneaking through the woods, trying to find the spot where she was killed. Chloe figured she'd just have to find the place with a yellow tape around it. And she hoped that there was no one guarding it. There wasn't anyone when she was driving up here. And just in case she had taken the long way around. Parking a little further, near a small stationary shop, in the middle of nowhere. Going into the forest first and then making her way towards the crime scene. Fingers crossed.

She had never had much trouble walking through the woods. In fact she enjoyed it. Better than the confining air of any concrete structure. She could see the yellow crime scene tape. She paused to make sure there wasn't anyone else there. Confirming the place to be empty, she headed in. Trying to match the position of the dried blood and the trees to figure out the direction of the shot and hence the position of the shooter. The police report said that the distance of the shot was around 5 - 7 feet. Chloe stepped away from the tape, counting from two.

Two.

Three.

Four.

With each step she could imagined herself slipping into the skin of the killer. Calm. Unpaced. She looked around the ground, the police didn't find anything, not even bullet shells, the killer cleaned up after themselves. She imagined herself aiming the gun, six consequent shots fired within seconds. Felicia clutches her stomach and collapses on the ground, reduced to nothing more than meat. Chloe steps forward now, the gun by her side, pulling out her phone, clicking the photos, moving around trying to find the right angles. The flash making her look like a ghost. She ducks under the tape, standing where Felicia would have stood as she took her last step. There is nothing there. No indentations, scruffs or marks. Clean. The police didn't find anything else either.

Chloe felt lightheaded like she had just woken up from a dream. She crouched, sitting on her toes. The ground had absorbed the blood making it look maroon. Chloe reaches out to touch, unable to resist. This was someone else's blood. Someone who was murdered. This should be horrifying. She should be horrified. That was the appropriate response. But she wasn't. Instead she was drawn in by the color of it. The image in the photos next to her materialized in her head, an inappropriate thought crossed her mind. And she shoved it away but not before taking a little peak.

Her heart almost stopped at the sound of crusty leaves being broken under a boot. Pulled back to reality she shot up.

"Who's there?" She asked like a dumb horror movie character. She straitened her back, hoping it wasn't the police.

More leaves crunched as a head popped out of a tree.

"Hi" he said.

He stepped out of the tree's shadow and promptly fell face forward on the ground. Chloe rolled her eyes and raced to help him up. However he was already on his feet. He smiled at her, the corners of his lips touched his eyes. He was freaking huge. Not just super tall but also fairly well built making him seem bigger than he actually was.

"Hi" he waved his hand once, a leaf stuck to his shoulder length wavy hair. Chloe thought she knew the guy, she was sure she had seen him somewhere. However no record of a name popped into her head.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, turning away the photos in her hand.

"You are not the only one fascinated by murder, Decker"

"Do I know you?" Her eyebrows scrunched and he looked like someone had said something offensive.

"How . . . " He turned his head, licked his lips "how do you not know me? Chloe, we are in the same class!" he finished in an exasperated tone.

"If it helps I know your face" she said thinking to herself 'which is quite pretty, might I add'. And it was, high cheekbones, a straight pointed nose and a jawline that could cut through glass.

He held out a hand. "Lucifer Morningstar"

Chloe shook it. "Chloe Decker, but you already know that". This was a first. No one did the business handshake greeting around here.

"Fascinated by murder, huh?" She said it as a question as much as a statement.

"Yeah" he scratched the back of his neck. "There was a cop here yesterday. I thought I'd try my luck again."

"So what do you know?" She asked it in mockery as much as a long shot for more info.

"Well" he crossed her, walking to the yellow tape. "From what the papers say, she was shot six times." He was standing close to where the feet of the body would have been. "And nobody heard the shots." Chloe nodded, it was true. The body was found in the early hours of the morning. "And yes this isn't the most densely populated of places," he gestured widely "but a bullet fired at about 11:00 at night, with the weather, would carry," he gestured movement "just enough for the guards in the neighboring buildings and the school to hear," he put a finger on his lips, "or even anyone on the road not in a car. You can miss one shot but not six consecutive ones. So conclusion they had a silencer." He turned to Chloe as if asking what she thought. She didn't know whether or not she ought to be impressed, on one had his deductions where right but at the same time they weren't that impressive.

“If they were careful enough to get a gun along with a silencer they had planned it,” he continued, “I for one think it was the neighbor."

Now that Chloe knew to disagree with. This wasn't a simple murder. If this was a smart serial killer, and Chloe thought they were, they won't kill in their neighborhood. Though she was curious why Lucifer would think that and how would he even have a suspect. She raised an eyebrow.

"We'll it's quite simple isn't it" he paced towards her. "His socials."

Chloe had seen Felicia's socials, but how did he even find the neighbor’s.

He stepped forward. "He was a man pining for love he didn't think he could have. Just look at his Facebook or Instagram and you'll see the obvious signs of a stupid man in love." He stood a feet from her. "Sappy reposted stories about love, and he always comments on her photos, each time with heart eyes." He enunciated each point with a pointed gesture. "And yes that isn't exactly proof of anything other than he didn't do that with everyone. Could be nothing, but still." He barely paused to breathe through his explanation.

He rubbed his right eye and looked down. Chloe stepped back clearing her throat. "Well, those are some smart deductions."

He didn't look up.

"What are those?" He said and before Chloe could even figure out what he was talking about, he grabbed her wrist, bringing it up and along with it the killer's photos. Her hand must have turned at some point in their conversation. He tried to grab them but Chloe tightened her hold on them. "Decker" he said plainly, "these are the crime scene photos." He looked at her eyes wide, mouth hanging half open but he didn't look incredulous, just curious. "How did you get them?" His tone was soft, almost admiring. Chloe twisted and turned her wrist till he let go.

"How did you get them?" He repeated as she stepped away.

"None of your concern" she spat.

She had to leave, right now.

_You do have feet._

Without giving Lucifer a second look she turned back to where she had come from.

"Those aren't the crime scene photos, are they?" Lucifer called out from behind her.

That stopped her in her tracks and turned around. "Yes they are. I . . ." She tried to find a comprehensible lie. "I hacked into their systems and got the photos" she said before she could stop herself. He smiled mockingly. Chloe knew he didn't believe her. 'That was a lame lie. I hacked . . . I. Hacked. I barely pass.'

He stepped closer to her. Too close. An intimidation tactic. But his body language and expressions said a different story. He smiled softly. He looked almost friendly. Or maybe that was what he was trying to project.

"I won't tell the police. If you tell me what's going on." He whispered it, low and soft, a sound that comes from deep within the throat.

Something about the gesture made Chloe want to tell him. But she knew that wasn't a good idea. The Killer might kill him or something. But more importantly, this was her’s, and her's alone. No one else was going to be able to claim a part in it.

"I think I know." He said once he realized Chloe wasn't going to be saying anything. "It's from the killer. He wants you to figure who he is or something."

He wasn't entirely wrong.

"He is playing a game." His face changed. "You do realize you'll be playing Clue with a crazy person”

"Contrary to popular belief serial killers are not crazy. They are in perfect control of their facilities," she retorted

"You get my point," he said casually.

"Good thing it isn't any of your concern then." Chloe was over this conversation. "Do not try to follow this. Won't end well for you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe,” she narrowed her eyes, projecting anger.

"See! It is stuff like this that makes everyone think you did it." He raised his arm in a way that reminded Chloe of the Star Trek Sir Patrick Stewart meme.

'Male human with gorgeous hair say what!'

"What!?"

"Oh. You don't know. Pretty much everyone thinks you did it." He said it too matter of fact-ly. His facial expressions were relaxed. He was telling the truth.

Chloe didn't expect it. Except that she did. It wasn't that much of a leap. It did explain the weirder than usual looks she kept getting. As if she had sprung devil horns overnight.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. But there was a brush of a feeling of power. 'They might even fear me.' A seductive thought.

She stepped towards him, if this rumor was true, she had the power here, “And,” she tilted her head almost like a threat, meeting his eyes square, “what do you think?”

He gulped and looked away for a second before meeting her eyes again, “I think they are stupid, you couldn’t possibly have done it.”

“And why is that?”

“You aren’t capable of it,” he said it with venom in his voice.

They words should be compliments, and she knew that. But a certain part of her thought of them as an insult, something else that she couldn’t do, something else she couldn’t achieve. And someone else claimed that was the case.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” she hissed, stepping even closer.

“Well then, did you do it?” he tilted his head, a mirror of what she had done.

“No.” she admitted.

“What was that?” he put a finger to his ear, as if he couldn’t hear what she said.

Was he seriously making fun of her? He stayed in the position waiting for her to repeat. His lips curved into a small smile.

She jerked her head back in confusion and he continued to smile. She couldn’t help herself from breaking into a smile too. Thumbnail digging into her index finger, she stopped smiling, “No,” she said a little louder.

He dropped his hand, “So, let me be a part of this?” he shrugged in request, “solve it together.”

“No.” she stated, “this guy could kill you for that,” she proposed to him the thing of advantage to him.

“And he couldn’t kill you?” he asked.

She hadn’t thought of it that way. But he made a point, he could. But she knew it wasn’t going to deter her from it.

“Go home, Lucifer,” she told him before walking out.

He didn’t try to stop her this time.


	4. He will know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe is ready to write her first correspondence to the killer. Only problem is, she has no idea what she is writing about. The motive for killing Felicia eludes her. Until it doesn't.

She had ended up wasting a whole day thinking about what Lucifer Morningstar had said. She was feared.

Not the best kind of reputation to have but she liked it. From personal experience she knew that fear was a powerful motivator.

But the cruel irony of the world was paper wasn’t afraid of her.

She had looked through the photos and the pages upon pages of information she had gathered about Fairy a hundred times and while there were some point that may have made her a target, Chloe doubted it.

She went through the poem again.

“Global connection, check,” she said looking at the blinking cursor and her blog post page. She realized she couldn’t just out right say the motive, but if this guy had her as the mark then he knew that and would know the next post was meant for him alone.

“Nobel intentions,” she repeated it again and again, “Nobel intentions,” she let out a breath, “Look dude I know you think yourself a messiah figure but what the hell does that mean?” she asked the page. When it didn’t reply, she groaned.

“Look here is all the information I have on her,” she turned to the book where she had noted everything down, “not a good friend, though I think that might just be my opinion. Average intelligence. She failed three subjects in the first semester after which she started to get better. She is tall. Rude. Extroverted. Loves dancing. Has dated never. About half my class wants her, I think, most likely more. She is fair. Pretty. Has good but thinning hair.” At this point she was simply running out of things to say about her. “Has friends,” she clicked on her Instagram tab, “is meticulous about photos,” they weren’t exceptional but Chloe had been friends with her so she knew how much she loved taking picture. Any group photo would be arranged by her, “everything should be in harmony,” she would say.

She was smiling in every single picture. Chloe wondered how people did that, smile like that. Open, welcoming. As if they don’t think about the constant ticking of the clock and movement of time and the lack of true free will in the world and how even though everyone knows they are going to die someday, they still spend their time hating people. And there is no real reality only your perception of it.

She banged her head against the table, willing herself to stop thinking. She felt her mind rest for a second before the next thought came. She groaned, “Why can’t I just do what she did and move on?” she said pointing to the picture of Fairy she had scrolled to, cross at herself for breaking her rule to stop thinking about her having a constant crisis. She figured denial was better than numbness.

It was a large group shoot of all her friends, “present company excluded,” Mahi stood right next to her, leaning in as they made a row. For some reason she noticed that the people standing closest to her were fair skinned. At first she thought it was nothing, until she scrolled through more pictures. It was true for each and every one of them.

“Holy shit,” she paused in silence, unable to move after having her epiphany, allowing herself to wash in endorphins as long as they lasted. “It can’t be – but it could – but it can’t – why not?” something inside her was clicking into place and she could feel it. She didn’t know how but she knew she was right. “Won’t be the first time.”

She grabbed her laptop greedily. Her fingers rested on the keyboard, “What do I call you?” she asked the blank page.

“Should I do something about beauty? This is about racism or at least color-ism, what’s new?” groaning she tapped her fingers on the keyboard mocking typing, “Oh, I know.” She started typing.

Half an hour later she was ready with a 1000 word draft. The words had just flown.

She decided she’d better read her notes aloud once more, just in case.

Her eyes kept going back to how Fairy had managed to go from failing three subjects to getting 8.0’s, “maybe there is something else there?” she murmured.

Chloe knew her college to have an unspoken reputation of fixing exams, maybe that was it, she thought.

She added a cleverly worded line about cheating in her post and clicked Post.


	5. AMIL with two Y's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe receives an encrypted message that leads her to the location of who she assumes is the killer. Things don't turn out the way she thought. She finds out something that shakes her.

Chloe was at the coordinates she had received. Sayaji Museum. Chloe hadn’t been here since she was on her eight standard field trip. It felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, it kinda was. Back then she had been struggling with the idea of who she was. Pas had been a recent development and she thought she was sick or being possessed or both. Which was why she had studied every major mental disorder and supernatural phenomena. Nothing fit. Overtime she stopped worrying about Pas and just let it be. He was good company, especially in her more lonely years. People have friends and lovers that they trust enough to divulge their greatest secrets and thoughts. Chloe had always found that a novel idea. Some ideal. Something that everyone struggles to reach but no one can. Maze had proved her wrong.

She looked around. Any one of these people could be the killer. Or multiple people, she hadn’t yet ruled out the possibility.

Her phone vibrated.

**The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.**

“Sun Tzu”

“Huh?” asked the man handing her the ticket.

“Nothing.” She smiled.

‘Chinese Section then.’

The security personal verified her ticket. The first was the Japanese Section. Followed by an Indian sword display. She was taking her time going through each exhibit. She reasoned that she was doing it to not draw suspicion but museums had always been fascinating to her, along with libraries. She craved the reserve of knowledge they held. 

Not drawing suspicion got thrown out the window when she commented on how limiting it would have been to fight and kill with the hilt of the sword being so small. You wouldn’t be able to do the rolling the sword against your hand style move. After which she looked up from the display, a guard watching her curiously.

The next one had Buddha Statues and painting, a Chinese vase and the most amazing chess board she had ever seen. The Egypt Section had a Mummy. ‘I don’t remember this part.’ After which were the Aboriginal People Section mostly filled with old rocks.

The board above the next section – Chinese. She barely stepped under the door frame. . .

“Oh. You are so dead.”

Lucifer was casually looking at a blue and white vase. He turned around sharply when he heard her.

“Shush!” he put a finger on his lips and pulled her inside.

“You sent me that text!” she whispered angrily.

“You came!” he furtively whispered back.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem . . .” his lips curved to make a perfect O. “Let’s not forget _you_ ” he jabbed a finger in her direction “are the one who received an anonymous text, from I’m hoping you’d have assumed a killer, but it’s you, hey, I don’t know. And you came anyways.” He finished it all in one breathe. All the while making dramatic faces, hands unable to stay at any given point.

Whispering increased in volume as half a dozen people entered the room. Lucifer jerked and turned to the display which was made of ceramic statues. At first Chloe assumed they were of Chinese kings. However the plaques informed her that they were just random people.

“Seriously. . .” The people exited the section without paying much attention to the displays. “Though. What do you want?”

Lucifer looked around, checking for eavesdroppers, Chloe supposed.

“I just want in. On your investigation.”

‘Nope.’ This was hers.

A family of four passed by and Lucifer turned back to the displays, moving to the next glass case, faking intrigue and pretending to read the plaques. More people continued to enter the room in couples, families and friend groups.

After the third group Lucifer approached her, irritated.

“What do you say we take a tour of this place?”

“I’m not letting you in on the investigation.” Chloe replied irritated.

He turned to her sharply. His eyes trying to communicate with a look. “Keep your voice down.”

“And why would I do that?” she said it louder, if only to irritate the poor boy.

He reached for her arm, Chloe backed out of reach. “Because we _are_ talking about murder, after all.” He murmured.

“I wasn’t the one who did it.” She murmured back, irritably.

“Yes.” He taunted “You only have the information that you shouldn’t have. Not to mention Felicia is your friend.” Chloe was perfectly aware the precarious position she was in. Should the police find out they would take her in for questioning, and since she didn’t do anything they’d have to let her go. Justice might spare her, but with her reputation, she was not going to be welcomed by the people, her fellow classmates, maybe even anyone she knows. And she dread to think how her parents would react.

“Was.”

“Yes, was. What happened between you two?” Asks a lot of question, this one. But if his intentions are malignant, then she must find out and stop them before the evidence can be used against her.

“Not your concern.” She wasn’t exactly nice.

“Not making a good case for ourselves, are we?” he teased. He extended his hand “Would you like a tour?”

“Sure.” Alex took the hand. He linked their arms together as they walked over to the next section.

They descended the left stairs into the European history section.

“I can help you.” Lucifer had let go of her hand after she had seized it back. Now he smiled, simple and genuine.

“Really! How?” she shot him a look and moved to the center display. “I hope they have a Lucifer statue.” She said noting all the statues in the adjacent room.

“Is this him?” Lucifer asked pointing at the statue of a man half laying on the floor, in a positon that Chloe could only describe as sexy.

“Nope.” She said after reading the plaque next to the statue. “That is Achilles.”

“Ah! My bad. Though did you know Achilles had a friend Patroclus who wore Achilles armor to battle when the Greeks were losing and he refused to fight?”

“Yeah.” She knew the information, though her source was basically Iliad fanfiction. “A friend whose ashes were mixed with Achilles. Totally platonic.” She teased.

“Not at all platonic, I’d say.” He said looking back at her, a glint in his eyes. Chloe looked at him curiously. ‘You are something new, aren’t you?’

“Then they have Napoleon Bonaparte, and Apollo. Didn’t Apollo help kill Achilles?”

“Yes, via Paris.”

“Strange they should be in the same display, thousands of miles away from home.”

“They must be organized by the date they were made.”

“Must be.” He said absentmindedly. Coming up to her, he said “Anyway, I can hack into their systems.”

“Liar.”

“I really can.” Lucifer followed her to the next room, defending his skills. Eight feet tall statues decorated this room. “I know how.”

“Of course you do.” She quipped. A part of Chloe refused to believe this boy in her own class could actually do the deed and the other wanted him to tell her everything before she would even consider having him involved. And if she could get information without showing her cards, it would be the best option. “Who taught you? Felicity Smoak?”

“I don’t really know who that is. Also, no one taught me, I taught me.”

“Definitely reliable, then”

“Alright. If I didn’t, tell me how would I know they suspect the killer isn’t someone she knew?”

“Easy guess.”

“Felicia’s dad was having an affair.”

“People talk.”

“He was a pedophile.”

“Again people talk.”

“Fine then. How about this? The bullets weren’t ordinary. They had letters etched on the bottom.”

That caught Chloe’s attention.

“What letters?”

Lucifer knew he had her undivided attention, he smirked. “I, two Y’s, A, M, and L”

Chloe visualized the alphabets in her head and started rearranging them. He hands moved as she picked letters and dropped them around.

“It doesn’t form any word, unless you count Amil with two Y’s at the end.”

“I could have told you that.”

“If you really can do what you say you can, I’d like to see some proof, let’s say a photo of the letters.”

“Not here.”

Chloe thought about it, “Fine. But first, I want to see the whale skeleton.”

Ten minutes later they sat in the front seat of his car. He rolled back and got a college bag.

“Figured I’d need to prove my talents” he said handing her the color copy of the bullets. They were arranged alphabetically. A, I, M, L, and two Y’s.

[Insert a photo of the bullets]

“It doesn’t make a word.” Provided Lucifer. “Any proper word that would make sense, anyway. I ran it through an anagram solver.”

Chloe was still studying the etchings. The engravings were precise. By a small tool. Handwritten. “This was a message to the police, specifically.” She mused. The letters were in capitals, her eyes kept catching the M. The only alphabet in small hand. Unless. . .

She turned the photo ninety degrees. She was right.

“What is it?”

“That isn’t a M.” she gave him the photo.

“It’s an E!”

“You have scissors?” Chloe asked.

“Um . . . Yeah.” He pulled down the glove compartment.

She separated each letter.

“So we have an A, E, I, L, and two Y’s”

“Unless . . .” he picked up the I from her lap. “It’s not an I.”

He turned the letter. “H.” she smiled. “Holy . . .” her heart raced at the realization.

She snatched the letter from him and put it on the dashboard, followed by the A. With each alphabet she put, her heart beat faster, palms sweatier. She placed the last Y and her breath caught in her throat. A queasy feeling set in her stomach. Part of her was excited and another worried.

“This is disconcerting.” Lucifer added _helpfully._

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Why would he send the police _that?_ ” he pointed at her rearranged letters H A Y L E Y.

“Not a clue. Is he _trying_ to get me arrested?”

“I doubt you could get arrested . . .”

Chloe cut him off “As an accessory or obstruction of justice or no coming out with the evidence.” Her speech was hurried and anxious. However she was perfectly calm.

“Um . . . Thank you for the info, but I gotta go.”

“Chloe, we have a deal . . .”

“Fine. Should anything turn up, I’ll let you know.”


End file.
